The Chamber of Dirty Secrets
by Abielle-a-Miel
Summary: The Chamber of Dirty Secrets has been opened…Entities on the air, Beware! *Kenneth Muddlesworth, reporter turned producer, is looking to host his own reality show starring the interesting characters of Hogwarts. What will he discover...and will he regret his decision?* (An Intentionally Terrible But Perhaps Not So Terrible Mess of a Story)
1. Chapter 1: The Pitch

**The Pitch**

It had been at least a month since Rita Skeeter left her post at the _Daily Prophet_ . For maternity leave. I'm not sure who the poor sap was that actually managed to impregnate such a dreadfully irritating woman. Not my business, though. What _is_ my business is that ratings have been down since then. _Everywhere_.

Being a rookie reporter/journalist isn't something I'm proud of. It's tough getting the big jobs, the big stories. Proving yourself is all you ever seem to do, day in and day out. But I was about to make my luck change. You see, the Muggles have a thing they like to call "Reality Television". I've tuned in here and there. It's awful. _Absolute rubbish_. And it doesn't even take a little bit of truth serum or a good dose of the _Imperius_ curse to get these Muggles talking and doing things— _crazy, assinine_ things _—_ for my viewing pleasure. If you could call it, "pleasure".

That's when it hit me.

Why don't _wizards_ do this kind of thing? I mean, of course it's cause we don't really spend time in front of the telly. And not too many of us are willing to broadcast our lives for the world to see. But I could only imagine…what would happen if those cameras were on _us_ just once, _on the wizarding world_ …

I decided then that I was going to become a producer. I was going to look for a _new_ kind of inside scoop...

Well, it all began with this idea.

It was good-bye reporting and hello show business!

A pitch to the network execs. Consulting with writers.

Next thing I knew I was standing in a tiny, many-trinketed room - the Headmaster office - a far-off and forgotten place stowed among one of Hogwart's many towers.

I watched as the wrinkled old man scratched idly at his white-haired brow.

'Well, Mr—er—'

'Muddlesworth, sir. Kenneth Muddlesworth, Mr. Dumbledore, sir,' I reminded.

The man was strange, his ice-blue eyes on me with such concentration. For a time, I wondered if he could see into my soul.

He continued on, not caring to address me properly. 'Well, I'm not sure about this reality show idea. But you know, next to the Triwizard Tournament which near kills someone every once and a while, I suppose this would be nothing.'

'Er, sorry about that...tournament.'

'Oh well, water under the bridge.' It was a peculiar thing he did next after such a dismissive line. _He smiled._

'Right, my thoughts exactly, sir!' I said, feigning deference.

Anyway, the Headmaster understood at least. Which is perfect for me. What better setting for Reality Television than a school filled with batty, unpredictable children? Why not choose ground-zero for all the outrageous antics of the Boy-Who-Lived?

'One condition, of course,' the Headmaster continued, peering at me from over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, looking quite gremlinish. 'Make _me_ look good.'

I raised a single brow. Wow. What an obnoxious bastard this man is, I thought. I smiled anyway. 'Of course, sir. Of course.'

* * *

 **Note** :

 **Yeah. I have no idea where this story is going. But I suspect weird and random. And go where no Potter fic has gone before. Or where every Potter fic has gone before. : /**

 **LOL.**

 **...**

 **#awkwardturtle.**


	2. Chapter 2: Casting Call

**Casting Call**

Every good show needs a cast. A reality show is no exception.

The pitch was a simple one. The show would follow the lives of four Hogwarts students and one adult or creature (preferably, werewolf or vampire). I needed five extremely interesting people. If I needed to turn wizards and witches on to the idea of _Reality_ programming, well, I needed the best I could get.

So a sign was posted around the school that read:

 _Reality Show – Open Casting Call for Students  
Meet Producer/Journalist Kenneth Muddlesworth on Saturday, 2 PM  
Seventh Floor Corridor, Left Corridor, Hogwarts Castle  
Room Shall Appear Upon Request_

Although I made the sign, I already knew who I was looking for. Naturally, my first choice the famous Harry Potter. Everyone knows the boy. He was the perfect draw. Rita Skeeter had proven that much.

When I got to the makeshift office/studio left to me by Dumbledore, the Room of Requirement, it was called, I already had a few eager students lined up to be interviewed. Potter was there—not by choice I presume. Dumbledore had sent him there. I made Dumbledore know that I could only do this show if Harry was involved. Harry brought along his friend. _Some girl_. The girl (Hermione Granger) promptly introduced herself, then demanded that she had to be there if Harry was there because she didn't "trust this whole thing".

 _'Why would Dumbledore allow it? It doesn't make any sense,'_ the bothersome girl kept saying to Harry.

I also noticed (though it was hard to not notice) a rather tall, gangly-looking red-haired kid. He looked uncomfortable to say the least, with an agitated scowl on his face. I couldn't help but notice he was probably only there because Potter and the girl were there.

Looking down the line, I saw that the Malfoy boy was there also. He stood in front of two enormous, awkward-looking young blokes. Were they friends, security guards, sacks of potatoes, I hadn't the faintest clue.

So Malfoy jr. insisted on an interview with me.

 _'If Potter is here, I should be too,'_ he pompously declared _._

My, my. The Malfoys have only the greatest, fattest sense of self-importance.

No matter.

'Alright,' I said finally. 'You four go first.' I pointed to each of them and motioned them to follow me.

They followed without hesitation to the tune of grumbling students who remained, also waiting in line. Poor kids. Overshadowed by the greatness of Harry Potter. Well, not everyone could be a star.

The four stood along a narrow strip of empty corridor. I paced with intent until the door appeared.

'Alright, so this is how it's going to work,' I explained. 'You will enter the room individually and just tell me a bit about yourself. Whatever you want. Or in fact, skip the introduction for now—tell me about your innermost thoughts. Things no one would ever know.'

I barely uttered the last line when Hermione's hand shot-up. _Classic know-it-all syndrome._

'Yes?' I asked, with as much faux patience as I could muster.

'Mr. Muddlesworth, I don't understand why we should feel any need to tell you… things.'

I sighed internally. 'That's perfectly understandable. Well, rest assured this portion is simply pre-screening— _untelevised_. It is however, necessary in determining your role within this show.'

'Role?' the Ginger seemed excessively sceptical as well. 'Like _acting_?'

'No…' I began, uncertain how to explain this properly.

Hermione spoke again. 'I don't know If you are aware, sir, but _I_ am Muggle-born. I know perfectly well how these reality shows work. There's nothing _real_ about them.'

I could feel my jaw slacken. Nothing was getting past this girl. I assembled a grin. 'Wonderful! Then you know what? Now is an opportunity for you to craft the perfect image of yourself for the world to see. '

'Craft an image?' Harry asked, looking unsure. 'Like…lie?'

'No! I'm absolutely not asking you to lie. Rather, be yourself. But just think! Now people can see—see what it really means to be a Hogwarts student. What _your_ life is _really_ like.'

'Bloody hell,' The Redhead grumbled. 'Harry, this sounds like a stupid idea.'

'No,' Harry said suddenly, looking oddly excited. 'I want to do it. I want people to know who I really am.'

'Harry?' Hermione said, looking as suspiciously overbearing as my mother.

'Of course you would!' Draco said, speaking for the first time. 'Potter loves attention. But this time— _I'll_ be the one to steal the show.'

I waved my hands for them to calm down. 'Uh, well nothing is set in stone—'

'Like hell you will be on television, Malfoy! They'd need three cameras just to capture the entirety of that big head of yours!' snapped the Ginger. Referring to his ego, perhaps?

'Ha, good one, Ron!' chortled Harry.

Ron? As in Ronald McDonald the American hamburger clown? Well. The kid certainly had the height. The wit. The hair. Not the make-up though. Not yet. But we could work on that…

The magic of television.

 _Wizard television_.

'You know what, Weasley—I can't wait until the world sees what a pathetic wizard you are! So bring it on!' Draco retorted. The blond was a natural diva.

Hermione suddenly began to match his feistiness. 'Oh yeah, Malfoy? Well, we'll show you! Won't we, boys? Let's do this!'

It happened just like that.

The inconvincible became convinced.

And I didn't have to do a thing because they had done it all to themselves.

Futile competition. Needless arguments. Irrational decision-making. This combination was perfect for the telly. _IT WAS GOLD._

Never did my face have a bigger smile than the one it had in that precise moment.


	3. Chapter 3: Confessions

**Confessions**

I wanted the screening session to feel as natural as possible. Therefore, once in the Room of Requirement, I had the test subject—er, _interviewee_ – sit in a chair, alone, in a booth facing the camera, exactly as the Muggles do on _Big Brother_. All the while, I was sitting there just on the outside like a Catholic priest at confessional, listening to it all, an innocent observer as their faces flashed across the screen.

As planned, they came in, they said their piece, while I, speaking through a microphone, jumped in where I saw fit to pose questions.

Things hadn't turned out quite as I expected.

It was 4 pm when I finished with them, and I was left as empty-handed as when I had started. Well, fortunately I had managed to store my memories within a Memory Jar, a budget-friendly, commonplace equivalent of a _Pensieve_. Now I could revisit this trainwreck.

So there I was, sticking my head in a jar, for better or worse, reliving it all...

The first to enter the chamber was **Harry Potter**. What a keen boy he was. He didn't know where to begin. Well, a few key questions got him waffling and jabbering like a bewildered parrot. It went well. Up until he started talking about Rubeus Hagrid:

* * *

 _'From the first day he came to me with those words…"You're a wizard, Harry"…I knew there was something between us. Something magical._

 _Oh, that came out weird._

 _Literally. Magic. That's what I actually meant._

 _Don't take this the wrong way or anything. I obviously don't mean anything dirty.'_

* * *

Of course not. Why would I think that?

Then I puzzled over whether he was trying to tell me something.

I felt an unrelenting pang of unease as Potter continued to prattle on.

* * *

 _'I really despise that pale, skinny bastard. I don't need to name you. You know who you are._

 _What's he doing right now? Probably off somewhere riding Snape's—'_

* * *

'Broom?' I interjected.

Harry pursed his lip like an affronted nobleman. He stared for a minute, his expression most unreadable. I knitted my brows as he pulled his mouth into a crooked smile.

'Right. _Broom_. That's… what I was going to say.'

Potter's bit was indeed quite disturbing. Particularly the way he kept talking into the camera as though Draco were sitting there watching.

I decided to call the girl, **Hermione Granger** , in next. She couldn't be as bad, I reasoned.

The bushy-haired brunette sat studiously, arms folded across her lap. She fidgeted awkwardly, like a cavity-ridden child at a Muggle dentist wait room.

'My parents are dentists,' she informed me.

Ah. Explains everything.

Once she looked into the camera (as I instructed) with its dark, gleaming eye on her, her demeanor shifted. She calmed and the words spilled out:

* * *

 _'There's a lot people don't know about me. They think I'm just a know-at-all. Well, I may not be all posh and fancy like other girls. Maybe it takes me an hour or so to brush my hair. Maybe my greatest fear is failing all my courses. So what? I have needs. I have desires too. Just like everyone else._

 _I know people want to believe I have a thing for Harry. Well, sure he's famous and all. But that's not enough of a reason for me._

 _What I really like? Hairy legs. That's what gets me. And not just the usual hair…but that long, coarse, thick kind…_

 _I guess it's why I've always loved Crookshanks._

 _I love hair._

 _I really do._

 _Especially hair…on legs._

 _That's when I remember… Hagrid. Yes. He has some of the hairiest legs I've ever seen on a man. So manly…'_

* * *

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. 'You're referring to the Gamekeeper?' I asked.

'Well, he's also our Care of Magical Creatures professor. So…'

'Right. Well, I was just checking,' I said, clearing my throat.

'Well, you need to keep your facts straight,' she replied, again with that matter-of-fact tone and that deadly serious look. Frightening.

I adjusted my spectacles and quickly looked downwards, nervousness catching me off guard as I rustled through my sheets of parchment. 'Um. Sure. I will do that.'

The girl was worse than I expected. And weirder. All I kept asking myself was when she had gotten a chance to actually see Hagrid's legs.

Well, I decided I would take a break from the _Potty Pair_. I stepped into the hall, and called in **Draco Malfoy** next.

The boy reminded me much of a lizard.

I don't know what it was.

Not that he was a bad looking chap, actually.

Just that something about those pale, grey eyes and that snaky grin...

I shuddered.

Just like his father. No. Worse, maybe.

No matter. I had a show to produce and this boy wanted a part in it. The question was whether I wanted him. He sat in the chair, his back straight and arms folded across his chest. He stared into the camera with complete poise. It was as though, truly, he had waited his entire life for such a moment. I supposed I'd learn more about this boy and whether or not I was willing to give him the attention he so craved.

I didn't need to press him to talk. The lure of the camera was enough to get him started:

* * *

 ** _'_** _The truth is Hogwart's can kiss my pale, bony arse._

 _This place? Ha!  
Pure rubbish._

 _All of it._

 _Every time I pass through these corridors I feel sickened. Father would've had me at Durmstrang…but no—this bloody place is where I end up out of "tradi_ _tion". Bless my mother's heart, but seriously, I want the fuck out. Oh, can I say the "f" word? Ah, whatever. Already happened._

 _Now, onto other things._

 _Potter._

 _Oh where do I even begin? That four-eyed try-hard….why doesn't he just DIE already? Honestly. Dead. I want him dead. For real. Like gone out of this world, dead. Everyday—it's Potter this, Potter that. DIE, YOU STUPID PRAT! DIE!'_

* * *

My mouth parched. A tickle formed in my throat, suddenly, and so I coughed. I flicked my wand. A glass of water. Yes, that's what I needed.

* * *

' _And Weasley. Ah, well, fuck him too. Stupid ginger twat. How does he not just implode into himself from shame, I don't know. How does he even get up in the morning? How does he look that freckled-arsed face in the mirror just once and still not dissuade himself from leaving the confines of his dung-hole? Or zoo. Whatever it is he calls his "home"._

 _And how does that entire family fit in that house, anyway?_

 _Please, don't even get me started on the Mudblood. Oh—days. I could go on for LITERAL DAYS.'_

* * *

I was speechless at first. I pressed my mouth to the mic.

'You seem to have a lot of pent-up rage. I wonder if something like this show might be too much for you?' And I really meant it. This boy had issues with a capital 'I'.

Draco smirked. 'No. I play the villain role perfectly, you see.'

'Ah. Very well, then,' I conceded.

'Right. Without me you have no show. Believe that,' he sniffed.

'Well, _You-Know-Who_ is on standby for an interview later …'

I might have been fibbing just a bit.

'No way! _He's still alive_?' Draco's eyes rounded like boulders.

'Well…somewhat. I don't believe he can… _die_ …really.'

'Well after him, I'm number two, right?' Draco asked hopefully.

'Er, well. Fourth actually. Right after Riddle's diary…' I admitted.

'You're joking? I'm right after a _bloody book_?'

'Well, this Kreacher character is right after you. If that makes you feel—'

'A LOWLY HOUSE ELF?! What a load of tosh! You know what? To hell with the _Dark Lord_ , to hell with _Riddle_ , to hell with YOU—'

'I'll overlook the anger directed at me, but isn't your father somewhat indebted to _You-Know-Who_?'

Draco looked suddenly apprehensive. 'Oh, well, you can delete the last part, right?'

I stared dully. 'No.'

Draco didn't speak as he reached under his cloak.

'Are ... you pulling out your wand right now?'

'No! I was pulling out my —!'

It was at that point I decided to cut the microphone and video feed. I figured I'd get back to Mr. Draco on another, more peaceful day.

There was still one interviewee left: **Ronald Weasley**. He slouched into the room, looking about curiously.

'Interesting little place you've got,' he noted.

'Yes. Well, I try,' I said, adding a chuckle for false humility.

Ronald didn't say anything for a while, looking as though he was thinking hard about his words. He stared into the camera, sullen and stiff-faced. He opened his mouth, and kept it short and simple:

* * *

 _'Draco Malfoy is a bloody wanker. That's it. I've nothing left to say.'_

* * *

'Really?' I could feel the creases on my forehead accentuate with my fully raised eyebrows.

He answered curtly. 'Really.'

'Only that one line about, er, Mr. Malfoy, then?' I clarified.

Ron folded his arms as he braced back against the chair. 'Well it's true isn't it? He pulled it out for you didn't he?'

 _How the blazes…?_

'His wand, actually,' I said.

'Well, if that's what the older folks call it these days. Suit yourself.' Ron then covered his mouth as he let out a yawn.

 _This cheeky little bastard._

'Nothing? Nothing even about your friends, er…Mr Potter? Or Miss Granger?' I persisted.

Surely he must have had more to say?

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment, as he stroked his chin. 'Oh, well now that you mention it—NO.'

I let out a sigh. I was finally reminded of why I hated teenagers, and never went into teaching.

'Right on. Well, if you change your mind, I'll be back tomorrow to do more interviews. I'll be happy to sit with you again,' I said, preparing to pack up and leave.

'Just tell me one thing. Did she mention the thing about hair?' Ron asked out of the blue.

I gave Ron a curious look. 'Miss Granger?'

 _How the on Earth did he suspect…?_

'Yes,' he said.

'Well, she might have…' I admitted, unsure if this was too much to disclose.

Just then, Ron ripped off the mic clipped to his jersey with a passion, and flounced through the door.

I was left to stand and stare after him, feeling foolish.

I pulled my head from out of the jar.

An interview with this four did not go as I anticipated. Potter, in spite of the hype, was surprisingly dull and weird. The girl who was his friend was weird too but also prone to odd fetishes. The Malfoy son's behaviour was wonky at best, utterly ghastly, in truth. And lastly, this Ron character was oddly evasive and uncooperative. Altogether, they were a dodgy lot.

Perhaps this would make good television.

But not the kind of television I was going for…

It didn't take a Wizarding Master like Merlin to figure out I had a bit of a problem on my hands. These kids had deep-seated issues. And s _ecrets_. _Dirty Secrets_.


End file.
